


Bits and Pieces

by wordslinger



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles from my larger fic, In Pieces. These are of varying lengths, and in no discernible order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post as I write them. A schedule will likely not be maintained.

            “If you keep doing that, I’ll wind up pregnant,” Riza sighed as Roy kissed and nuzzled her neck.

            “I fail to see the problem,” he murmured.

            She grinned, and rolled him off her, and to her side. “Are you sure you’re ready to share my attentions?”

            “Are you implying I’m not mature enough to be a father?”

            “Not at all,” she leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “It’ll just be a big change.”

            “Riza, if you have reservations-“

            “I don’t.” She sat up quickly and glanced out the window. Rain poured down, and she suspected the walk into town for work would be a muddy one. Perhaps today she’d take the car.

            His hand was warm on her bare shoulder. “Tell me the truth. Open and honest, remember? No secrets.”

            She turned to him, and touched his cheek sadly. “I just worry sometimes.”

            “About what?” His face was so earnest it made her eyes sting, and throat tighten.

            “I just…” _Why_ was it so hard to share what had been plaguing her heart? This was _Roy_ , and more than _anyone_ _else_ on the planet she knew he’d understand. In fact, Riza knew he was the _only_ person who could. A traitorous tear escaped, and she whispered, “What if I’m like _him?_ ”

            “No.” His voice was firm, as was his grip when he took her hands in his. “Riza, _no._ ” She tried to pull her hands free, but Roy refused to let go. “You aren’t like your father. _You could never be._ ”

            “But-“

            “Listen to me. You are kind, and caring, and the most unselfish person I’ve ever met in my life.” She tried to turn her head, and look away, but Roy held her gaze with his hands on her cheeks. “You are _not_ your father. I love you, and won’t let you wander down that path.” His eyes continued to search hers. “Don’t go where I can’t follow, Riza.”

            How did he always know exactly what to say? Riza flung herself at him, and cried quietly into his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.


	2. Chapter 2

            Riza was accustomed to Roy’s needy sleeping habits. He’d held her unapologetically close every single night since they’d began their new life in Resembool, and despite the adjustment of wearing tank tops and panties to cut back on his excessive body heat, she really didn’t mind. The years spent sneaking around, and separated had earned them the right to be clingy.

            It was three-year-old Emily who crowded her more than Roy ever had. She was nearly an exact replica of Roy in looks as well as temperament. Her tiny hands clung to Riza’s legs, constantly begging for attention. Riza made efforts to see that the girl went to sleep in her own bed, but somehow, every morning her daughter was curled against the front of her body, opposite her father.

            Emily was a sweet child, but Riza was grateful their five-year-old son was more like her. Joshua had always been an independent little guy, and only shyly tugged on her hand when he couldn’t manage by himself.

            Weekends were the only mornings Riza enforced the _Alone Time Rule_. Joshua would extract Emily from their mother’s body when he woke, and entertain her downstairs until both parents emerged from the bedroom. She wasn’t sure if Joshua really understood the purpose of _Alone Time_ , but he did sense that his baby sister needed more social interaction than himself. Teaching Joshua to pour her a bit of cereal and milk before Roy made the much-anticipated pancakes was a real sanity-saver.

            With a lazy, satisfied smile, Riza tightened her robe, and made her way down the stairs. Weekends were her favorite. Soon Roy would emerge from the shower, as well, and their family would convene in the kitchen. The loud talking, and mess of breakfast filled her heart with a joy she’d never experienced in her own childhood. As she approached the kitchen, the voices of her children could be heard over the radio, and clinking of spoons against bowls.

            “Emily, if you eat too much cereal, you won’t have room for pancakes.”

            “I don’t care! I’m mad at daddy.”

            Joshua sighed, and Riza could almost see his eyes rolling. “Why are you mad at daddy?”

            “Because he _always_ hogs mommy! He takes up _all_ the room, and I don’t _want_ cereal! _I want mommy!_ ” Riza stifled a giggle in the sleeve of her robe. Emily’s complaint may have been from the mouth of a self-centered toddler, but it wasn’t completely without merit.

            Roy descended the stairs behind her, and she placed a hand on his chest to keep him from entering the kitchen. She couldn’t hide her smirk. “Your daughter is complaining that you hog me, and doesn’t want any pancakes.”

            “ _My_ daughter? I’m pretty sure I remember you had a hand in her creation.”

            “Roy, Emily is _all_ you and there’s no denying that. Go fix it.” She kissed his nose and shoved him through the doorway.


	3. Chapter 3

            It was Riza’s idea for him to take on students. They both agreed an office job in town wouldn’t be his cup of tea without her supervising him all day, and the idea of having an assistant that wasn’t Lieutenant Hawkeye made him anxious.

            The garden behind their house had a decent sized gazebo that easily converted to an appropriate teaching space, and Roy currently had three students. Four mornings a week they showed up on the front doorstep eager to learn. The transition from training soldiers to teaching children was a bit of an adjustment, and Riza was _no_ help. She only laughed at his complaints and told him it was good practice.

            The size of her belly was terrifying, and the rate at which it continued to grow, alarming. The first four months were filled with moments of panic watching her bent over the toilet every morning. She insisted this was normal, and _no_ , there was nothing he could do to help.

            Month five was an entirely different animal. Her appetites went from crackers, and tea to literally _everything_ in their kitchen. There were _other_ things she wanted, as well. Things he was more than happy to provide, though, he suspected she satisfied her own desires when he was otherwise occupied.

            Roy told himself he was ready. Fathering couldn’t be _too_ hard, right? Fullmetal seemed to handle it with an ease that ruffled his feathers. Riza assured him the confidence was only a façade Edward put on to aggravate him, and that the two Elric boys were constantly into horrifying messes that turned his face purple. Roy would’ve liked to see it happen at least once.

            Month six had Riza showing up at home, mid-day, exhausted. She would fall into deep naps, and sleep until early evening. At first, Roy was concerned, and would attempt to wake her, only to achieve angry results. Winry found this annoyingly adorable and let him know that disturbing a pregnant woman while napping was probably the worst thing he could’ve done. _Growing a human being inside of one’s body_ , she told him sternly, _is tiring business_. Fullmetal only smirked, and asked if Hawkeye still slept with a handgun.

            One of Roy’s students, much to his chagrin, had developed a rather obvious crush on Riza. He would bring her baked goods several times a week and presented his offerings with a brilliant blush. She would graciously accept them and set his face further aflame with a hug.

            “You’re welcome, Miss Riza,” he would stammer before dashing out the back door to the gazebo.

            “That kid has some nerve,” Roy muttered one morning, stuffing his hands into his pockets; a habit he couldn’t quite shake.

            Riza only smiled, and peeked into the basket. “Bless that boy’s mother, these are lemon crème.” She moaned sinfully and sank into a kitchen chair.

            “Do I need to be worried about him stealing you away from me? Because the look on your face is pretty damning.” He was only half serious. Or maybe three-quarters. Riza had a weakness for lemon crème.

            “Oh, Roy, you’re ridiculous. He’s too young for me anyway.”

            His lips tightened into a flat line as he watched her lick the crème from her fingers. “It’s not funny. That kid is clearly making a play. He doesn’t even care that you’re pregnant with _my_ child.”

            Riza rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Please _try_ and grow up. I’ll be home for lunch, and if you’re a good boy while I’m gone, you can have a treat.” She winked and kissed the corner of his mouth.

            “What kind of treat?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and brushing his lips against the spot behind her ear that he knew would make her knees tremble.

            Her fingers tightened their grip on his shirt. “The kind not appropriate for little boys. So try to be an adult.”

            She left him standing in the kitchen with a warning not to touch her pastries. Riza didn’t arm her person anymore, but he knew better than to eat them. She could still shoot him with any number of hidden weapons, and would enjoy the lemon crèmes as he bled out on the floor.

            Roy sighed, and joined his students in the gazebo. Adult, indeed. For the sake of salacious promises from the woman he loved, he would _try._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be a part of In Pieces, but couldn't make it work. So in the drabble files it goes.

            The basement of Madame Christmas’s bar was dark, and completely contrary to Grumman’s expectations, immaculate. He suspected this had less to do with Christmas’s efforts and more with that of her employees. She wasn’t known as a particularly tidy woman. Shrewd, and frighteningly perceptive definitely, but she relied heavily on her girls to handle the daily aspects of running a brothel. Her own interests were safely hidden beneath the surface of legitimate business.

            Grumman shifted in his chair as he waited. If not for the extremely sensitive nature of their meeting, he’d have insisted on a plush booth upstairs. He’d only met the boy a few times, and wondered how much of his parents’ influence still held sway. Probably not much, he’d only been a snot-faced child freshly out of diapers when they’d been killed. He knew he was a heartless beast for being more broken up over losing a valuable agent than a toddler losing his family.

            He was used to being a beast, though. Hopefully his soul would have a few less black marks against it if this meeting went successfully. It wasn’t just about the Mustang boy, after all. There was another child…

            “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Christmas’s voice echoed from the stairs. The smell of cigarette smoke heralded her arrival more so than anything else. She eased into a chair across from him, and flicked a bit of ash into a glass tray.

            “It’s my pleasure, Madame. I appreciate you seeing me at all.” Grumman knew full well that flattery did not work on the Madame, but it was his way.

            She leaned back in the chair, eliciting a groan from the wooden structure. “I know why you’re here, and the answer is no.”

            “Madame, I think you should at least hear me out-“

            “ _No_. If you think for one second I’ll send my nephew off to become the same dead pile of blood and bone my brother-“

            “That’s quite premature, don’t you think? He’s a child, and I’ve said nothing of military service.”

            Christmas snorted, and a cloud of smoke billowed from her nostrils. It reminded Grumman very much of a dragon. “That’s the endgame, though isn’t it? He’s a bright boy, and you want to groom him.”

            “It’s not-“

            “No.”

            “But you haven’t even heard my proposal! The teacher I have in mind is not even military!” Grumman slouched. “Hates it, in fact.”

            Madame Christmas raised an eyebrow, and brought another cigarette to her lips. “I’m listening.”

            “He’s an independent alchemist completely unaffiliated with the government. A little… eccentric, perhaps, but he’d make a fine alchemy master. You’d need to contact him yourself, though. I could give you his address.”

            “And why is that?” Her dark eyes narrowed, and Grumman felt naked. He should have known she’d sniff his intentions out.

            “Did you know I had a daughter once? She was lovely. A perfect copy of her mother, thank the gods.”

            Christmas puffed her cigarette wordlessly. At least she hadn’t shut him down altogether.

            “As young girls sometimes do, she fell in love. I handled it wrong. I know that now, but back then, I was still trying to _hold on_ …” His voice drifted off, as memories long buried began to haunt him. Grumman scrubbed his face with weathered hands, and focused on his audience. “She ran off. I never saw her or her _husband_ again. She died shortly after my granddaughter was born. I’ve never even met the child.”

            “The night wears on, Grummy. Get to the point.”

            “Berthold Hawkeye is a brilliant alchemist, despite my feelings towards him personally. He would never push your nephew into military service regardless of aptitude. If you want Roy to be safely trained away from men like me, Hawkeye could do that.”

            The Madame eyed him suspiciously for several long, and silent moments. “What’s the catch?”

            Grumman flushed. She really did go for the throat. “My granddaughter. I’m… curious. If Roy could get any sort of read on her or what goes on in the house… I’d be indebted to you.”

            “If this Hawkeye is such a _brilliant_ man, why do you look so pale? If you keep beating around the bush, I’ll walk out of this room.”

            “He _is_ brilliant. I’ve heard he has a hard time keeping apprentices, though. And, like I said, he’s a bit eccentric.”

            Christmas quirked an eyebrow.

            “I just need to know my granddaughter is okay. Is she healthy? Has she been educated properly? Do they have everything they need? There’s no sinister plot here, Madame, I assure you. Just an old man’s druthers coming to call.”

            She reached inside her cloak, and withdrew a small notepad and pen. When she slidthem across the table, and Grumman reached out, Madame Christmas caught hold of his wrist. Her grip was unexpectedly painful.

            “If I find out you’re using Roy-boy for some military bullshit, I’ll gut you myself. When he’s old enough, he can make his own decisions, but for now he’s under my watch. He doesn’t know about his parents. Doesn’t need to. Don’t fuck with me, Grumman.”

            Grumman swallowed, and shakily wrote his former son-in-law’s address on a page of the notepad. Christmas nodded, and stuffed the paper back into some hidden pocket within the fur-lined cloak.

            “Stay for a drink, if you like. It’s on the house.” Without another word, she left him alone in the incredibly tidy basement.

            Later that evening, considerably warmer due to the alcohol, Grumman wrapped his trench coat tighter around his aging body. He told himself he’d done his best for a granddaughter he’d never met. Let the pieces fall where they may.


	5. Chapter 5

            “Are you sure you can handle it on your own?” Riza’s voice carried from the bathroom over the sound of running water.

            “It’ll be fine.” Roy was mildly distracted, his eyes hurriedly flying over the pages of the medical journal.

            “Because I can stay home-“

            “No, you can’t. The library funding committee only meets once a month, and your requisitions can’t wait.” He flipped through the pages nodding to himself.

            “Joshua can dress on his own, and I packed his lunch last night. Edward promised to drive him into town for school in about an hour.” She switched the water off, and re-entered the bedroom.

            “Right.” Roy didn’t look up.

            “All you have to do is keep her comfortable, and monitor her temperature. She can have the soup, applesauce, or toast. Do not let her play outside, no matter what she says, and _please_ keep her from talking too much… _Roy!_ ”

            He jumped when her hand slapped the pages of the journal, finally catching his full attention. “I’m listening! This book says there’s a tea… and I think I have the herbs in the gazebo…”

            Riza knelt in front of him, and scowled. “Just give her the medicine in the cabinet, and do not attempt to blaze any new trails in a field you have no experience in.”

            “I could call Alphonse, he’s in town. Alkahestry is a-“

            “I’m staying home.” Riza’s lips were set in a grim line.

            “No! Riza, I swear I’ll follow your instructions. To the letter. Don’t miss out on the committee.”

            “Roy-“

            “Emily will be fine. I will be fine. _It’s fine_.”

            The old habit of wordless conversations was hard to break. Their eyes locked on each other, and there was a long silence, during which Roy started to sweat. Finally, Riza sighed, and stood.

            “She’s never been this sick before, and I’m worried.”

            Roy tossed the journal aside, and drew her against his chest. “I promise I can handle it. Everything will be okay.”

            Riza relaxed against him. He smelled of orange juice and the sugary cold cereal preferred only by children. “I trust you. It’s Emily that makes me nervous. Don’t let her manipulate you.”

            “Give me some credit. I think I can handle my own daughter. How hard could it be? I used to oversee hundreds of soldiers! This will be a piece of cake.”

            “Roy,” Riza pulled back. His face was set in an over-confident grin. “Soldiers are one thing, but Emily is… well, she’s like a tiny army unto herself entirely made up of you in little girl form.”

            “Well then, I’m perfect for the task.”

            “Promise you’ll call me if anything goes awry.”

            “I promise, but I don’t th-“

            “And, Roy, I mean this in the most serious of ways. Do _not_ let her get the better of you. She’s very intelligent for her age, and based on my _personal_ experience with her breeding stock, I fear for how things will go once I walk out the door.”

            Roy wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or proud. “You handled me just fine. I can do this, Riza. Just go before you’re late.”

            She left him in their bedroom with one last stern glare before leaving.

            Joshua was dressed and perched on the edge of a kitchen chair a full fifteen minutes before Edward knocked on the front door.

            “Hey there, kid, you ready?”

            “Yeah, let me just tell my dad we’re leaving.” Joshua’s voice was quiet, and polite as ever. Edward reflected that he really was exactly like his mother.

            Roy poked his head around the corner. “Thanks again for driving Josh, Fullmetal, I really appreciate it.”

            “I’m retired, jerk. You can start calling me Edward any day now.”

            “But Fullmetal has such a lovely ring to it. I think it stays.” Roy turned to his son, and ruffled his hair even as Joshua scowled. “You’ve got your lunch, and everything? Homework? All your school… stuff?”

            Small hands did their best to straighten sandy blonde hair. “Yes, dad. Mom handled everything last night. I can take care of myself.” Roy was slightly admonished by his son’s exasperation.

            Somewhere outside, Edward’s car horn sounded loud, and long; Roy could see Fullmetal’s jaw twitching. His boys knew exactly how and when to press his buttons or, in this instance, car horn. “Isn’t that cute?” Roy asked in the most patronizing voice possible.

            “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your day with the flu. I hope you don’t have to call Hawkeye in to back you up,” Edward bit out as he ushered Joshua through the door. “We all know Mustang can’t do a _thing_ without her. It’s a historical fact.”

            Before Roy could sputter out a retort, the front door was slammed shut.

            A tiny sniffle came from behind him, and Emily trudged into the kitchen. Her dark hair was a mess, and even with a sickly pallor she managed to plant herself at the kitchen table with a commanding presence. “I’m _starving_ , daddy. Make me some breakfast.” And almost as an after-thought, she added, “Please.”

            Roy took a deep breath, and confidently sat across from his daughter. “Mommy said you should have medicine, and juice first, then breakfast at nine.”

            Emily flopped her face down into her arms on the table. “But I’m hungry _now_! And nine is so _far away_! What if I _starve_?” There were tears glistening in her eyes when she looked back up at him.

            “Well-“

            “Please, daddy, _please, please, please_ can I have breakfast now?”

            “Emily, sweetheart, don’t cry, okay? Come up stairs with me, and take the medicine. We’ll read a book and then breakfast.”

            _“Fine!”_ Emily shouted, and stomped all the way up the stairs. So much for keeping her quiet, and calm. For a child sick with the flu, she certainly had plenty of energy reserves for tantrum throwing.

            The medicine was a bright red color. “This looks like blood, daddy.”

            Roy sighed. “Blood is darker, and thicker.”

            “How would _you_ know?” Emily scowled as she inspected the tiny measuring cup.

            “I know a lot of stuff. Just swallow it down okay? I brought you some juice in case it tastes bad.”

            “You don’t even know how it tastes?”

            “No more talking. Just take it.”

            With a harassed exhale, Emily pulled a face, and swallowed the syrup. “It _tastes_ like blood.”

            Roy wondered if she gave Riza this much trouble. “No, it doesn’t.” He reached over to the stack of children’s books on the bedside table. “Want a story? We can have breakfast in a bit.”

            “I don’t want any of _those_ stories. Make one up, daddy, _please?”_

“Uh, okay, well-“

            “Make it exciting, I’m sick, remember?” Roy settled against Emily’s headboard, and she wormed her way under his arm.

            “Right. Exciting. Well, once upon a time there was a king, and he was very powerful, but lonely. He couldn’t always do the things he needed to do to keep his country safe, so he gathered his best knights to help him out against the forces of darkness that wanted to destroy everything. One of his knights was actually a queen, and she made the king feel a little less lonely. She was brave, and strong, and beautiful. The king didn’t mean to fall in love with her, but he did.”

            Emily interrupted, “Daddy, this isn’t going to be one of those stories where the king has to save the queen, is it? Mommy says those are backwards.”

            Roy laughed out loud, and planted a soft kiss on his daughter’s head. “That sounds _exactly_ like something mommy would say. But no more talking now, you’re supposed to be listening, and resting your throat.” Emily leaned further into his side. “One day the king learned that his enemies were actually much greater in number than he ever guessed, and all his knights were taken away from him.”

            “Even the queen?”

            “Even the queen.”

            “Was the king sad, daddy?”

            “The king was _very_ sad, he’d gotten used to not being alone, and now he felt completely by himself. He could only speak to his queen in secret, and make plans quietly. When the time came to go to battle, the king nearly lost himself. It took a harsh threat from his queen, a young hero, and a former enemy for him to find himself again. He realized that revenge is never the answer. Even when they threatened the queen’s life and tried to force him to take horrible measures to save her, he didn’t waver in his resolve to do the right thing.”

            “He must have loved her very much,” Emily whispered.

            “He did. He knew the queen would never forgive him if he went down the wrong path just to save her. Even when they took his eyes, he refused to not fight on the right side. In the end it was his queen that helped him through the final battle. The young hero slayed the monsters, and the kingdom was saved.”

            “The young hero sounds pretty brave too, daddy.”

            “Yeah, well, if the king hadn’t been blinded, he would have been more useful,” Roy muttered.

            “What happened to the king?”

            “The king eventually followed his queen into the countryside, where they did their best to live quietly, and happily.” Roy leaned down closer to Emily’s ear. “Between you and me, I think all along the king just wanted to save his kingdom so he could finally live in peace with his queen.”

            Emily yawned. “I think you’re right, daddy. Can we have breakfast now? My tummy is growling.”

            “You stay here, and I’ll bring some food up, okay?”

            Her eyes widened, and she whispered, “In bed? Mommy never lets us eat in bed.”

            “Mommy isn’t here, so I’m in charge. It can be our secret.”

            Emily smiled, and Roy ruffled her hair. “I’ll be right back.”

            When Riza returned home from work, with Joshua in tow, she found both Roy and Emily sleeping in her tiny bed. There was a stack of dirty dishes on the bedside table. A brush of her fingertips across the girl’s forehead told her the fever had gone down, so she decided not to say anything about the eating in bed. _This time._


	6. Chapter 6

_**For[luluhrh](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5794176/luluhrh). Her reviews are the best kind of loyalty a fanfic author could hope for.** _

* * *

 

            Edward took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes, surveyed the room, and tried the breathing technique again. It wasn’t working. His eye twitched. His jaw twitched. His _fingers_ twitched. Winry was always saying he needed to calm down, and not to take the kids’ messes personally. Honestly, how could he _not_ take them personally at this point? It _felt_ personal.

            Both his sons were seated on the living room floor completely covered in mud and flour. It was an odd combination, Edward thought, one that seemed to have been created out of his exact nightmares. Theo was explaining to his younger brother, Alex, how to achieve the perfect mixture of the two ingredients so the _dough_ wouldn’t stick to their fingers.

            “Alex,” Edward ground out from between his clenched jaws. “Theo, what is happening in this room? _And why?”_

            Two pairs of golden eyes peered up at him. “We’re just experimenting, dad. It’s not a big deal,” Theo said flippantly.

            “Oh, I’d say this mess is a pretty big deal.” It was all Edward could do not to completely pop his cork.

            The boys looked around themselves, as if noticing the disaster for the very first time. Theo shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet, dad. Casualties in the name of science, and all.”

            Edward could only gape, and stare in an enraged silence. Where had his son learned language like that?

            “We’re making pies, daddy!” Alex said with a smile. Edward had no doubt his younger son had been lured into Theo’s plans for destruction with the promise of mud-pies.

            Theo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Not _pies_. They’re experiments. Pies are _not_ scientific, dummy.”

            “Okay, look, I don’t care what you’re making, but you better get this cleaned up before your mom gets home. Those are her tins, and mixing bowls you’re _experimenting_ with. She doesn’t need any stress right now.”

            “Science isn’t stressful, dad. Besides, if mom is tired it’s _your_ fault for making her have another baby.”

            Edward’s nostrils flared, and his fists curled into tight balls. “You _will_ clean this up. _Now.”_ He was trying so hard not to yell at his children. Winry hated the yelling. They’d agreed after Theo was born to get a hold of their tempers, and set a good, calm example as parents. Who could have predicted his boys would be so _trying?_

Theo sighed heavily and stood. He made a valiant effort to scoop up the globs of mud and flour into the largest mixing bowl. “You know, dad, Mister Mustang says with the right array, alchemy can fix just about any mess.”

            Edward’s fingernails dug into his palms. “ _Mister Mustang_ is an arrogant a-“ He cut himself off because, without a doubt, this was one of those parenting moments Winry was always warning him about where a regrettable epithet slipped through and would be inevitably repeated. “Mister Mustang is an alchemy teacher. Of course he’d say something like that. Just…” _Deep breaths_ , he told himself. “Just clean this up, and I don’t want to hear anymore back talking.”

            It wasn’t until two hours later that Edward spied Winry’s buggy rolling up the dirt road. He heaved in several more deep breaths, and decided there was nothing like country air for calming one’s nerves. Knowing his wife’s affinity for independence, he waited until the cart pulled all the way up to the house before descending the wooden staircase.

            “Boys! Mom’s home! Get out here, and help her with the packages!” He called as Winry slapped his helpful hand away.

            “I can get down myself, Ed. I’m not so big that I need a footman.” Two little boys, thankfully clean of both mud and flour appeared and squabbled over the bags of groceries and household supplies. A downright menacing glare from Edward stopped the fighting. “You two are such good helpers!” Winry beamed at her sons.

            “Yeah, they’re regular angels,” Edward muttered.

            “How did everything go while I was gone? I’m sorry for being gone all afternoon, but you know what a talker Mrs. Morris is.”

            “Fine, everything was fine,” Edward replied, chewing on his lip. He hadn’t actually seen the living room since issuing orders for it to be scrubbed.

            The Elrics made their way inside, and Edward’s relief was palpable when he saw the only remains of the _scientific experiments_ were a pile of dirty tins and bowls in the farmhouse sink. Winry turned to him and smiled in her sunny way. She patted his cheek and pressed her lips to it softly. “I told you there wouldn’t be a problem! You’re great with the kids!”

            Despite his earlier anger, and current relief, Edward smiled down at her. “Let’s just hope this next one is a girl.”

            Winry smirked. “Shame on you if you think girls are any easier than boys, Edward Elric. I’ll start dinner.”

            She left him in the living room doorway, the children had run off to their shared bedroom. Edward slipped his hands in his pockets, and decided he would need to have a chat with General Jackass about alchemy. Maybe just some basics so they could keep themselves from destroying the house. Maybe.

            He made his way across the living room and onto the back porch. The mounds of drying mud and flour had been left in the sun to crust onto the wooden planks. Edward cursed under his breath, and prayed desperately for a daughter.


End file.
